


Medal of Valor

by flippyspoon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, TENTACLE SCARS, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: I think Steve going to visit a recovering Billy is the new Billy going to Steve's house after a run-in with Neil so expect, I dunno, a GAZILLION of these from me lol.





	Medal of Valor

“Steve?” Max’s voice was worried over the phone and Steve felt that little stomach flip of anxiety whenever she called him at Family Video. It usually only meant one thing.

“Is he okay?” Steve said. 

“It’s a bad day,” Max said quietly. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah but, he’s getting more good days,” Max said. “I’ve been keeping track. He’s getting better.”

“I can come right now,” Steve said urgently.

“You can come when you’re off work,” Max said. She felt bad calling him like this, he knew. He didn’t know how to tell her he would just be worrying if he didn’t come. He didn’t even know how to tell himself what he thought about Billy Hargrove now.

“I’m off in an hour anyway,” Steve said, biting his lip as he eyed the clock. He saw Robin, shelving in the Action section and looking at him like she already knew what was about to happen. “I’ll just leave early. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

The first time Steve had gone to visit Billy after his Return from the Dead (as most of them called it) had been out of sheer politeness. Max told him that Billy wanted to talk to him. He imagined an awkward conversation. It _had_ been awkward but they’d ended up having a good talk and Billy had told him how he looked back on that fight like it was someone else throwing the punches but he was sorry about it. How he sometimes felt like he’d just woken up from some deep nightmare that had started when he was just a kid.

They’d smoked and talked for hours.

The first time Max called after that, Steve was confused.

“Billy wants to see you again? He’s having a bad day, I think he just needs someone like his own age who knows what happened?”

So Steve had gone to visit him again. Max’s step-father had left the family. From what Steve had heard about things, that was a huge relief. Billy was through the worst of his post-Mind Flayer recovery but he was still weak and often bedridden. 

The second time Steve saw him, he was curled up in bed and barely speaking.

Steve hadn’t know why Billy wanted to see him. He didn’t question it. He just sat at the foot of Billy’s bed and talked and talked. Billy didn’t talk much. That was okay. Steve figured he could do the talking for him.

There had been a whole lot of days like that now. Steve had somehow taken to dropping everything to go visit Billy Hargrove when he was having a bad day.

“Is he okay?” Robin said now. She blinked at him, holding up a copy of _Smokey and the Bandit_.

Steve shrugged. “I mean define okay. Max thinks he’s getting better? I guess that’s something.”

“It’s good he’s got you around,” Robin said, smiling hopefully.

“Yeah.” Steve ducked his head. He felt _weird_ about this thing with Billy and he didn’t know why. He didn’t want to question that either. “Sorry, I gotta duck out-”

“It’s fine,” Robin said. “Go.”

Steve nodded gratefully and went to the back to trade his Family Video vest for his jacket and grab his keys. He grabbed a bag of Reese’s Pieces on his way out for Billy. Max had mentioned Billy liked them once. 

At the Mayfield’s, he found Max doing her homework at the kitchen counter and she nodded in the direction of Billy’s room. 

“Thanks, Steve,” Max said.

“Sure,” Steve said, giving her a nod. Susan, he already knew, was probably still at work. 

He was getting weirdly used to the Mayfield house.

He was getting used to Billy’s room too. It wasn’t as nice as his own bedroom, but there was something cozy about it and the light through the blinds was soft, turning Billy’s curls to gold as he lay on his side in bed. When he saw Steve come in, he grimaced.

“I told her not to hassle you,” Billy said quietly.

“I’m not hassled,” Steve said with a shrug. Billy sat up and Steve tossed him the Reece’s Pieces. When he saw Billy crack a smile, he found himself smiling too. 

Billy smiles were too rare in his opinion.

“Rough day, huh?” Steve said, taking his usual spot at the foot of the bed and leaning back on the wall, his legs outstretched. Billy folded his legs and nodded mutely. His bare feet poked out from under the blanket and there was something so vulnerable about seeing Billy’s feet, it seemed. 

Steve turned his head and looked at Billy, his hands in his lap. 

“Flipped out this morning,” Billy murmured, ripping open his candy. “Thought I was back on that first night when it got me, you know… That thing that grabbed my face...got inside me...”

Billy was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt. He was self-conscious about his body now. Max had told Steve that Billy had all kinds of scars. Considering what Billy had been like before, the thought made Steve ache somehow.

He never knew what to say when Billy started talking about the Mind Flayer, not that he talked about it very much. 

“That must suck,” Steve said, feeling like an idiot. 

“It’s not awesome,” Billy said. He looked around the room and ate a few Reese’s before offering the bag to Steve who took some and knocked them back. “What’d you do today, Harrington?”

It occurred to Steve that Billy had never asked that before. His icy blue eyes were red-rimmed and he looked like he’d been rung out to dry but he was sitting up now and looking at Steve with interest. Steve perked up. This _was_ a rough day but it was certainly better than any other rough day Steve had seen from Billy. Usually, those had Billy curled up under the covers, shaking sometimes and not speaking at all. 

But Billy was trying to talk. He was looking right at Steve and asking him about his day. Steve had been prepared to do the talking and he took a breath and said, “ _Well_. Apparently, I’m a cretin for not knowing anything about Buster Keaton.”

Billy snorted a laugh at that and Steve grinned, feeling truly accomplished.  
“It’s not _my_ fault, dude!” Steve said. “I mean, I have cable but like a lot of those movies are, ya know, silent or whatever? Why am I gonna read while I’m watching a movie? Like they’re so _old_! And Robin always rolls her eyes, but Jesus, it’s not like there aren’t plenty of movies I haven’t seen that aren’t silent or something? Why would I watch one of those silent ones? Or like foreign films? They’re even worse!”

Billy was laughing so hard now that Steve abruptly stopped sputtering and he couldn’t contain the wide grin that spread over his face as he watched Billy clutch his stomach, breathless.

“H-how does she put up with you, Harrington?” Billy said.

Billy so far only knew Robin from school. She hadn’t been to visit him but Steve was determined on that front. His next goal was to get Billy out of the house as soon as he was feeling up to it. Then he’d get the both of them to his place for a film fest. They’d both tease him to death, he was sure. 

But it would be worth it.

He looked at Billy for a long time. He was holding his stomach, his messy blonde curls making him look something like a sleepy lion. He had a scar under his eye and that little mustache of his was only very faint now.

He looked pretty healthy today, Steve thought.

He looked pretty in general and he was laughing.

“I don’t know,” Steve murmured, having almost forgotten the question. “I think she’s a big snob. And then she says _I_ was so stuck up in high school like…” He threw up his hands as if infuriated. 

“Heheh…” Billy was still chuckling and he shook his head, scratching his chest. He grimaced. “Gross. Soaked with sweat. Jesus…”

“You want a fresh one?” Steve snapped into action and rose, going to Billy’s dresser. 

Billy looked mildly alarmed by that but only said, “Um...first drawer.”

There was a paper on top of the dresser; a printout from a computer. It said Department of Energy on it. It had Dr. Owen’s name on it and a list of dates and numbers. 

Steve opened the drawer and it felt like a significant moment suddenly, to be opening Billy’s drawer in his bedroom that smelled like cologne and cigarettes and sweat. Steve breathed in a little, basking in those scents, hardly realizing he was doing it. Billy’s t-shirts were rolled neatly in the drawer and Steve picked out a white Hanes and tossed it to Billy who paused, turning a little red.

“Um…”

Steve plopped down on the foot of the bed again, idly picking up a _Sports_ _Illustrated_ that was sitting there.

“Hmm?” Steve said. He dropped the magazine as quickly as he’d picked it up and looked at Billy. “What’s up?”

Billy gave him a long look and Steve felt like he was supposed to be understanding something he was not understanding but that wasn’t too uncommon for him. 

Billy chewed his lip and finally said, “Don’t freak out.”

“What…?”

Billy took off his shirt and balled it up, tossing it in his hamper across the room. He picked it up the shirt Steve had thrown him but he paused, sitting still on the bed, barechested.

Steve was frozen, his eyes fixed on Billy’s body. “Oh…”

Steve had known there were scars. He’d seen tiny glimpses of them along Billy’s arms once or twice. But he had never pictured anything like this. The ones on his arms almost looked deliberate; white little swaths of white as if he’d been painted with scars by a brush along his forearm and then around the bicep. They weren’t ugly at all. But they were quite noticeable.

That was nothing compared to the scars on his torso.

His skin had vaguely circular patches of thick bumpy healed over wounds. The most fascinating thing was the pattern of bumps broken by sudden splotches of thickened skin. He could see the formation of each tentacle from the giant beast that had nearly taken the life from Billy Hargrove. There was one on each side and the smaller one in front; the most eye-catching of all the scars. It looked something like a medal that sat on his chest.

Medal of valor, Steve thought. Didn’t they give that to soldiers who did brave things?

“I think they look kinda cool,” Steve whispered. 

Billy only sat there, staring at Steve, and his brow furrowed. He looked like a confused puppy and Steve felt himself falling.

He scooched up and sat close enough to Billy to get a better look, close enough that he could smell Billy’s shampoo and that made him smile too. It was girly shampoo for Billy Hargrove. Something with coconut. He was using Max’s stuff.

Billy’s hands had been sitting awkwardly in his lap and he leaned back, a little tensed. Steve watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He was still cut like a gladiator.

He looked, to Steve, like some hero from one of Dustin’s comics.

“I think they’re kinda beautiful,” Steve murmured. He reached out, utterly unsure of himself, and touched that medal of a scar. Billy was wearing his necklace but it had swung aside. 

Steve had a flash of memory; he’d touched Billy before in exactly that spot just after punching him in the face.

_Get out…_

“Beautiful?” Billy’s mouth was a crooked curve. Steve had an urge to smooth it out for him. 

“Yes,” Steve said, unwilling to take it back. He pressed his fingers to that spot again and smiled softly, feeling his breath come and go, the beating of his heart. “How are you feeling these days? On good days?”

“I don’t know. Better. Owens says I should go outside.” He frowned at that and looked up at Steve as if asking permission. Billy, who loved the sun and had been taken over by a creature who hated it had been stuck too long in this dim room.

“I could take you out one day,” Steve said. “Or whenever you want. We could shoot hoops.” He shrugged, but his hand had somehow ended up resting there on Billy’s chest, the two of them unwilling to acknowledge it. “No big deal.”

Billy’s mouth twitched. “Oh...okay. Yeah.”

Something was happening, Steve knew. It would be something that would have good days and bad days and he found himself smiling at the very thought of it.

“Can you stick around a while longer?” Billy said.

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding and feeling that something unfold inside. “I can do that.”


End file.
